The Sign of Kawashi
by gregmcduck
Summary: The Doctor finds himself working with a group of yakuza in the 1980s. What the yakuza have to do with an entire planet of Cybermen have yet to be seen.
1. November 17th, 1986

November 17th, 1986

The inside of Japan Air Lines flight 1628 was beginning to reek of Beaujolais wine. Someone had failed to properly restrain one of the shipping crates, and over a dozen bottles now lay broken on the floor of the cargo hold. The smell was starting to get into the cockpit, and Captain Kenju Terauchi hated wine, but he never let his discomfort known to the other two men in the cockpit. It was an attitude he had inherited from his time as a fighter pilot, a strong military discipline.

His co-pilot, Takanori Tamefuji, shared this attitude, but only because it was expected of him. The flight engineer, Yoshio Tsukuba, the youngest of the three, wasn t nearly as humble.

Oh, I d hate to be the guy who had to clean that mess up, Yoshio chuckled, mostly to himself. Is is weird that that smell is making me to want both have a four-star meal AND want to vomit.

Takanori shot the young man a disapproving look, but Captain Terauchi paid them no mind. Yoshio was good at his job, that s all that really mattered. They were on the final leg of their flight, just passing over the eastern border of Alaska on auto-pilot. A quick pit stop at Anchorage, then a six-hour flight over the Pacific to Naritia, Japan. Terauchi was always secretly amused whenever they flew over the International Date Line. Felt like time travel. If this smell got any heavier, time travel would be very, very welcome.

Dusk had just fallen over Alaska, the view to the west was fuzzy, a landscape waiting to be turned off. The view to the east was pitch black.

Japan Air 1628, the radio suddenly buzzed Anchorage Center, advising course adjustment fifteen degrees left, towards Talkeetna.

Takanori deftly picked up the transceiver and switched off the auto-pilot in one movement. Roger, Anchorage Center. Compared to air traffic control, we have it easy, Terauchi thought to himself. Managing all these flying machines so that they don t run into each other, with only radar and word-of-mouth to work with. Terauchi took a slow turn south and evened out. Routine. Takanori and Yoshio were barely paying attention.

That s when Captain Terauchi saw them. Wouldn t have even noticed them, floating around in the eastern shadow, if it wasn t for two very tiny beacon lights, pulsing back and forth from white to yellow. There were two of them, hovering to their far left and six hundred ten feet below their altitude. It wasn t long for Takanori to notice that his superior s attention was elsewhere.

What is it, Captain?

Two military aircraft, I believe, Terauchi replied, though not entirely convinced. We re close to Soviet space, so there are a lot of patrols around. Yoshio got up from his chair and glanced out the left-side window.

Why didn t Anchorage call it in? Yoshio pondered, Are they asking for a collision?

They might test-running, Takanori said, If it s something state of the line, something the United States want to keep quiet, Anchorage might not even know about it.

Maybe, Terauchi mumbled. Something wasn t right. The two crafts were pacing their speed and flight path. They were clearly interested in JAL 1628. Terauchi glanced over at Takanori and Yoshio and could tell they were troubled. Between Korean Air Lines flight 007 getting shot down by the Soviets three years ago and Japan Air Lines flight 123 crashing just a year ago, Asian airlines were building up a bit of a stigma. Takanori didn t want to be responsible to contributing to it. Yoshio didn t want to die.

For a few minutes, none of them said anything, and the two mystery craft continued to pace them. Then, without warning, the two craft were thrusted up and forward with unnatural speed, matching the aircraft s elevation and forming a stacked configuration less than three hundred meters from their cockpit. It only took a second. Captain Terauchi nearly jumped from his seat, but quickly regained his composer.

Aaah! Yoshio yelled, tripping backwards in his panic. The lights on the two craft were now almost blinding, obscuring the details from the pilots. The way the craft had accelerated, decelerated, flew sideways, Terauchi thought to himself, it was as if the two craft could ignore inertia and gravity. Two seconds after settling into their new position, the crafts triggers what Terauchi thought might be a reverse thrust. The cockpit filled with white light, and all three men could feel the heat from it. This light sustained for seven seconds before dissipating.

It took everyone a few seconds for their eyes to adjust. The lights on the two craft had dimmed, and Captain Terauchi was beginning to make out details. The backend of the craft were square, though Terauchi imagined they might look cylindrical from another angle. On each side were was an array of four rows of four jet-nozzle-looking things, each of them glowing a rotation of white, yellow, red and orange. Some of the nozzles were in a back-and-forth rotation, probably automated, causing the lights to dim and brighten. The section of the craft between these two arrays were pitch dark. These were no airplanes, Terauchi thought.

Takanori shot the captain a look, which Terauchi responded with a nod. Takanori grabbed the transceiver.

Anchorage Center, Japan Air 1628, do you have any traffic seven o'clock above? Takanori calmly requested. Terauchi thought what everyone else was thinking. This was not the best time to not be native English speakers.

JAL 1628, say again? the air traffic controller responded, clearly confused.

Do you have any traffic in front of us?

JAL 1628, roger.

Roger. We are in sight of two traffic in front of us one mile about.

JAL 1628, roger, do you have um, can you identify the aircraft?

We are not sure, but we have traffic in sight now.

JAL 1628, roger. Maintain visual contact with your traffic and can you say the altitude of the traffic?

Uh, almost the same altitude.

JAL 1628, roger. Would you like a higher or lower altitude?

Ah, no, negative. Takanori hung up the transceiver for the moment. Yoshio had returned to his seat and strapped himself in tight.

Negative? NEGATIVE! We need to get away from these things, now! Yoshio said in a panic.

It s clear now that we cannot outmaneuver these things, and we don t want to risk collision, said Captain Terauchi. He nodded again to his co-pilot, letting him know he made the right choice. As if on cue, the two craft broke from their stacked configuration and started flying side-by-side. The radio buzzed back to life.

JAL 1628, see if you are able to identify the type of aircraft, and see if you can tell whether it's military or civilian. This was a different voice than before. They had brought in someone more important to handle this.

We cannot identify the type, but we can see navigation lights and strobe lights, Takanori replied

Roger, sir. Say the color of the strobe and beacon lights.

The color is white and yellow, I think. Takanori didn t know the English words for red and orange.

White and yellow. Thank you. The radio went quiet again. Terauchi turned to Yoshio.

Yoshio, there s a camera in my bag. Grab it, quick! he yelled

Yeah, yeah, OK, Yoshio was hesitant to get out of his seat, but he finally unbuckled himself and reached over to the bag resting in the back of the cockpit, eventually digging the camera out and handing it to Terauchi. It was an Alpha 7000, brand new, and as Terauchi spun it around in his hands, he realized he had no idea how to work it. He never bothered learning it. He aimed the camera at the lights in front of them, but the auto-focus began to bug out. It took Terauchi a full minute to find the manual focus, but when he tried to take the picture again, the shutter wouldn t close.

Terauchi started to mess with the shutter, thinking it might be jammed, but at that moment the entire cockpit began to vibrate violently. Yoshiro was overcome with panic, and Takanori was beginning to sweat. Terauchi put the camera down and grabbed the controls as firmly as possible. The vibration was getting worse, all three of them felt like their bones were turning to rubber. In the corner of his eye, Terauchi spotted something small fall from the ceiling. Perhaps a screw.

This is it, Terauchi thought to himself.

Elmendorf Air Force Base, located a few miles off of Anchorage, was known as one of the United States 24/7 watchdogs. Should the Soviets decide to launch an attack, Elmendorf would be among the first to respond, scrambling F-15s in less than ten minutes. Of course, no attack had happened yet, so when the control center of Anchorage s civilian airport called in a Japanese cargo freighter encountering two strange aircraft, everyone got a little excited. There had been false alarms before, but based on the reports they were getting, this was looking like the real thing.

AB Gregg Thomsen was stationed at the radar bay, clicking settings back and forth, trying to locate these mysterious craft. He could clearly see the Japanese freighter, and if these reported craft were as big and as close as the reports said they were, he should have had no problem finding them, but no, it looked like the freighter was by itself.

No luck, Thomsen? asked one of the other operators on the other side of the room. New report from Anchorage, says the two craft broke away and flew off into the horizon. JAL 1628 is fine.

Oh, that s just perfect, Thomsen muttered. So, what? Are the pilots drunk on sake or something?

Well, they re going to land in Anchorage, so we ll find out soon enough.

Well, damn it, I thought we were finally going to shoot down some Communists, get a little pay back for the Korean plane.

You re such a sadist, Thomsen. This caused Thomsen to laugh.

Only two people join the military. Sadists and poor kids. Thomsen began to laugh at himself (no one else would) when his radar screen broke up for a second. When it settled, there was a second blip, not far from the freighter. There was no transponder signal, meaning that something was physically there, but wasn t sending the signals all aircraft are supposed to send. With a bit of renewed hope that World War III was on the horizon, Thomsen immediately grabbed his phone and dialed up Anchorage.

I don't know if it's erroneous or whatever, but

As Natoshio Nakano patiently waited for news on JAL 1628, his mind wandered to the Caucasian man sitting in the car, waiting for him. Natoshio had been working with him for almost a year now, but still really didn t know anything about him. The man was young, but seemed to hold wisdom beyond his years. Natoshio, who was almost seventy, bald and beginning to feel the arthritis in his fingers, imagined that s what he was like when he was the Caucasian s man age.

The service clerk finally walked out his office and approached Natoshio.

I m very sorry, sir. It s seems that JAL 1628 has suffered technical problems, and had landed in Alaska. It ll remain there till they can identify the problem. The clerk was clearly nervous. Despite Natoshio s smiling face and relaxed composure, the clerk was well aware of the man s connections. Natoshio s positive attitude was genuine, however. He wasn t worried. What that freighter was carrying was hardly the most illegal thing he d smuggled into the country, and they wouldn t need it for another three weeks. As long as it got here eventually.

Thank you, Natoshio said with a bow. He made his way out of the airport, which was nearly empty at this late hour. Outside, his car was waiting for him, and he slid into the backseat, next to the Caucasian man, who had just finished putting the car phone back together.

There, I improved your reception. No more static, the man said in perfect Japanese. Trouble?

Just a delay. Nothing to worry about, Natoshio replied. The driver started the car and pulled away from the airport.

Good, the Doctor said with a smile, I d hate to come up empty handed on my first proper assignment.

JAL 1628 landed safely in Anchorage, the aircraft immediately handed over to the military for examination, the three crew members shuffled off to a private room to give proper reports. Shortly after asking for the color of the beacon lights on the two mysterious crafts, radio communication between Anchorage and JAL 1628 went completely dead for several minutes.

Apparently, a lot happened in that time. According to the pilot, the two original craft speed off into the horizon. They were never picked up on radar. Shortly thereafter, the pilot said he say a third, far-bigger craft come up behind them, one almost a hundred times bigger than their freighter, shaped like a giant walnut. When communications started up again, all three men on board were in near-panic over this.

It s believed that this object was what showed up on radar on Elmendorf Air Force Base. It didn t take long before people were starting to throw around terms like UFO and flying saucer. If this was indeed a proper UFO, everyone knew it would down in history as the first one captured by radar.

Two servicemen was tasked with examining the cargo and making sure everything was all right. Only one crate of wine was broken, which happened before the incident, according to the pilot. The cargo hold reeked at this point. Everything else was secure. As the two men were about to leave, one of them spotted a puddle of wine in one of the corners. In the center of the puddle was an odd black mass.

The man bent down and poked at it with a pencil. While it was fairly chilled, the mass had the look and consistency of hot tar, and bits of it clung to the man s pencil, leaving a black stain he never got off. The other man took a look it, shrugged, and said it was probably used for shipping, glue for the boxes or something. The first man agreed, and they both left. The mass was never reported on, and when other people came in to examine things or clean the spilled wine from the hold or remove the cargo, the mass was already long gone.

Just outside of the orbit of Pluto, an entire planet crept its way towards the sun. Anyone who observed the planet would be forgiven in confusing it with Earth, as its land masses were exactly the same, it s continents in exactly the same place and shape. This was not Earth, however, but Earth s long lost twin planet, who sat on the opposite side of Earth s orbit billions of years ago. It broke away from that orbit when Earth s gravity captured the Moon, which disrupted the balance of the solar system, hurtling the planet out of control, into the depths of space.

The inhabitants of this planet grew very intelligent. Intelligent enough to construct a propulsion system that would allow them to drive their planet back it s proper place, and in a few weeks time, it would stand along Earth s side.

The planet was called Mondas. The home of the Cybermen. 


	2. December 21st, 1986

December 21st, 1986

When looking at the amount of extraterrestrial activity throughout the 20th century, it s a bit of a surprise that it took till 2005 before the citizens of Earth became officially aware of life out on other planets. Aliens have been interacting with Earth for almost it s entire existence, of course, but most instances prior to 1900 could simply written off myths, legends and utter fantasy. Only a few members of the elite knew with certainty the existence of alien life, and it certainly helped that Torchwood was established as early as it was when the world entered an age of mass media. Things were getting harder and harder to cover up.

Of all the cover-ups in history, there is perhaps no greater accomplishment than the Mondas Incident. On December 19th, 1986, an entire planet, a near-perfect replica of Earth, in fact, came as close to Earth as the Moon is now, and only a few hundred people ever knew about it. This is largely contributed to several coincidences. First, the planet approached Earth from below, with prevented detection from most satellites and radar. Only a few people ever had line of sight, and all telescopic images were pronounced reflections off the Moon by UNIT specialists. Considering Mondas looked exactly like Earth at first glance, that was easy to get away with.

What was harder to write off was the reports from Snowcap, the ICS space tracking station located in Antarctica. It was in the middle of monitoring the launch of the manned Zeus IV atmospheric testing probe when a contingent of beings known as Cybermen landed and took over the station. By Earth s timeline, this was hardly the first time Cybermen had reached Earth, but due to the amount of time travel in the universe, nobody s calendars ever really match, for in Cyberman history, this was their first attempt on the planet.

But even harder still to write off was the large amounts of power Mondas began siphoning off the planet. For a few hours, weather patterns changed drastically, entire continents lost power, telecommunication satellites went offline. Because the duration of these events were so short, it didn t so much cause a panic as left most the planet s population scratching their heads.

But easily the hardest thing to write off was the destruction of Mondas itself. According to reports, Mondas absorbed too much energy and disintegrated, grinding itself down to dust. Confidential UNIT reports claim that a man called the Doctor, along with two unidentified young adults, were at Snowcap at the time and assisted in Mondas destruction (or hindered efforts in it s destruction, eyewitness accounts seem to conflict). Whatever happened at Snowcap, it resulted in Mondas not exploding in a traditional fashion, which surely would have been noticed (not to mention that it probably would have wiped out all life on Earth). Instead, the entire planet became microdust, much of which burned up in Earth s atmosphere. A lot of that dust still rotates around Earth s orbit today, and some scientists believe that in time, Earth may have a belt similar in fashion to one around Jupiter.

Despite it being one of the most dramatic celestial events of the 20th century, the reports on the Mondas did not become public till 2097. When you consider that the world government had successfully covered something of this magnitude, it makes you wonder why things like Watergate even happened.

The Cybermen race survived, despite the destruction of their home planet. They spread across the universe, conquering planets like Telos, evolving, forming pockets of sub-species, crossbreeding with a race of Cybermen from another dimension, and invading Earth from time to time. The Cybermen became a fixture in the list of antagonistic races of the universe.

What few people know, however, is that Mondas did not just bring Cybermen to Earth. Something else had arrived, and though the Cybermen were defeated with Mondas destruction, they remained.

If Tsuji Toshiro was sure of one thing, it was that he HATED the Doctor. He hated the Doctor s smug attitude, he hated the way the Doctor blabbered on, he hated that the Doctor seemed to know things before they happened. Yes, he hated that the Doctor was white, was European (though from what country exactly was unclear. Every time the Doctor was asked, he shrugged and said Oh, one of the important ones ). He hated the Doctor s stupid bowtie. But most of all, he hated how the Doctor seemed to have just walked in from the streets and gained favor from the Kawashi family almost immediately.

Like the Doctor, Tsuji had no blood ties with the Kawashis. He was born into a poor family, went to a poor school, and after his father committed suicide when he was nine, Tsuji was homeless for large chunks of his life. His survival could largely be credited to him joining a Tokyo street gang in the early 1980s. His story was almost clich at that point, stealing to eat, stealing to steal, mugging old people at train stations, and lots and lots of running.

In 1982, at the age of 19, Tsuji robbed the wrong man. The man looked feeble enough, and Tsuji had stumbled upon him alone, in an alley. This man was Natoshio Nakano, a shateigashira (second lieutenant) of the Kawashi-kai clan, in charge of clan activity in Naritia. A yakuza. Most street gangs either fashioned themselves as up-and-coming yakuza clans or as the alternative, something better than the yakuza, though clearly they weren t. And when a member of a gang assaults a powerful member of any yakuza family, even one as small as the Kawashi-kai, they immediately turn the assailant in hopes that clan forgives them.

That s what happened with Tsuji. Once word had gotten out, the rest of the gang attacked him, knocked him out, tied him up, and left him on the doorstep of Tomori Kawashi, the oyabun, the family boss. Someone as small as Tsuji could have been disposed off as easily as a tissue, but Natoshio was the forgiving sort, and after much deliberation, of which Tsuji spent the entirety of tied and gagged in a cellar, Natoshio approached Tsuji and offered him a deal: Work for the Kawashi-kai clan, do everything they ask, without question. If they ask him to kill, he will do so without hesitation. If they ask him to kill a child, he will do so (thankfully, that was never in the clan s nature. Natoshio just wanted to be sure of the boy s loyalty).

Tsuji agreed. That s when Natoshio pulled out a knife and cloth and handed it to him. His first act as a member of the Kawashi-kai clan was perform penance for his attack on Natoshio. The ritual dated back to the 18th century and was performed almost exclusively by yakuza. Yubitsume, the self-amputation of the tip of the little finger. This was easier for Tsuji than it is for most people. Just another hardship to throw on the pile, Tsuji thought to himself.

After a bit of effort, Tsuji walked from the cellar to the dining room, where Tomori was. Tsuji dragged blood all across the floor as he approached the family boss and handed him the tip of his left pinky personally. Tomori looked at it, looked at Tsuji s cringing face and tear-filled eyes, and smiled. That was when Tsuji became part of the Kawashi-kai clan.

And now, every time Tsuji looked at the Doctor, he felt the stump of his left pinky. He thought about the hardships he had to go through to get to the place he was, everything he had to sacrifice to remain in good standings with the clan, and then he thought about how easy it seemed for the Doctor. It felt as though the Doctor just strolled in unannounced, and was met with open arms by Tomori and all the lieutenants. Most of the Doctor s dealings with the clan happened behind closed doors, and all Tsuji could figure was that the Doctor had some undetermined power in the West that the clan needed.

After four years, Tsuji had moved up to kyodai (bigger brother) status, and was given his own small groups of shatei (little brothers) to run. Tsuji s arms were already completely covered in red and black tattoos. It was common tradition for yakuza to cover themselves in tattoos using tradition methods (bamboo needles, one of the most painful ways to get them). However, the Kawashi-kai clan did things a little differently. All clan members got traditional yakuza tattoos, but the highest among the clan, the family boss, the lieutenants, and the saiko-komon (senior advisers) got a very unique tattoo, known as the Sign of the Kawashi, which was placed right over the heart.

The tattoo took the shape of a strange beast, unlike anything from Japanese mythology (or any mythology that Tsuji knew of). It could be best described as an ape with hooves instead of hands and feet, but that would only scratching the surface. It had devil horns, things that looked like fingers running up and down its arms, a bloated throat like that of a frog. If anyone knew the origin of the design, no one was telling Tsuji.

Tsuji was determined to eventually get a Sign of the Kawashi, and if that meant swallowing his pride when the clan assigned the Doctor as one of his shatei, so be it. Tsuji would always remember the day he was given the Doctor, as that was also the day of the world-wide blackout. When all the lights went out, Tsuji remembered the Doctor looking at his watch and making tsk, tsk, tsk sounds.

Oh, of course, it s Mondas day, the Doctor said to no one, How could I have forgotten? Don t worry, everyone, power should be back in a few hours. And indeed, it did come back. Another smug moment that Tsuji hated.

Ichirou Nakamura was having a great day. He just gotten his paycheck from Kyodo News for his story on the world-wide blackouts, the story that was published today in several papers all across Japan. He had just gotten wind of a story concerning some JAL pilot running into something in Alaska and had arranged a meeting with him in London in about a week. And now he was spending a romantic even with his fianc e, Yua Kimura.

Ichirou and Yua had met a year ago, when Yua had been hired as an assistant technical editor for Kyodo News, a job that consisted of changing the ink in the phonefax. Yua was very quiet, kept to herself most of the time, usually reading a book during her breaks. She kept her black hair short and permed, her brown eyes beyond far-too-large glasses, her tiny frame buried under plain pants suits. It took half a year of polite rejections for Yau to agree to a date with Ichirou. They were to married in the spring.

So, you re going to London? Yau quietly asked as she poked at some unidentifiable fish on her plate with her chopsticks. They were eating a fine hotel restaurant, one of those with a French name that Yau could never pronounce. Ichirou had surely blown his entire paycheck on this dinner, which frustrated Yau. He didn t need to spend so much money on her.

Yeah, me and Riku. There s a pilot there who says he saw a flying saucer or something while flying over the United States.

Flying saucers? Isn t that a bit silly?

Yeah, but it nearly started an international incident. The US thought it might have the Soviet Union attacking. Could have started a war. At least that s what I heard.

But if was a Japanese airplane, and if it was over US soil, what business would the Soviets have with? Ichirou had to stop and think for a moment. Yua was right, the US might have started a nuclear war over something that common sense would have discredited. Ichirou was always impressed with how smart Yua was, she could have been a reporter if she had the guts for it.

You re right, I guess. Still, who knows, maybe there s something to flying saucers. Aliens from other worlds, green men from Mars.

I don t like to think about it, Yau said, squirming in her seat a little. There s enough scary things on this planet to think about the scary things on other ones. Ichirou had been away when the world-wide blackouts happened, and when he had returned, he found Yau, crying softly at the foot of her bed. She was afraid this blackout meant something bad had happened to him. Ichirou was beginning to worry about her, she wasn t even aware the blackout covered most of the world at that time.

So, anyway, the pilot s name is Captain Kenju Terauchi, used to fly for the military, not the kind of guy to just be seeing things. He was shipping wine. Riku thinks the aliens were just looking to get drunk.

That finally got a laugh out of Yau.

It also drew the attention of one of the waiters, who quickly finished delivering his order and rushed to the back.

Captain Kenju Terauchi felt like the world was collapsing around him. He had felt so certain that he was going to die when two crafts incepted his freighter. And then the third craft showed up, and Terauchi was almost certain he was staring at God himself. When that craft finally left and he landed his airplane at Anchorage, he tried to save face, tried to act cheerful, cracking a joke about the incident here and there. He gave a report to military authorities, and the next day was allowed to take his freighter back to Japan.

However, once he was back in the privacy in his own home, Terauchi broke down. He began to shake violently for hours on end, he couldn t sleep, couldn t eat. His wife could do nothing to calm him.

You saw something you were not meant to see, his wife told him over and over. He never figured out why she said that, maybe she thought if she presented his situation in blunt honesty, he might become logical again. Finally, he was dragged to various specialists. None of them could find anything physically wrong with his brain, and insisted that what he was saw was some kind of illusion. Of course, that didn t explain why the other two saw it as well.

After two weeks, Terauchi s shock had finally died down. Now, he just felt heavy. He wanted to explain everything to someone, but his wife refused to entertain him. She was convinced as the doctors that it was some kind of trick of the mind. Then, almost a month after the incident, the world-wide blackouts happened. When Terauchi learned of the scale of the blackouts, he knew he had to tell someone official. He didn t know if these craft he saw had anything to do with this, but he couldn t sleep with the fact that they MIGHT have been and he didn t tell anyone.

Most airlines are very clear on their policy on telling the press about incidents with their planes: You don t tell them anything. Airlines have people specifically for talking with the press. Terauchi was not one of those people. He knew this was going to be a risk. So he send a word to Kyodo News. This had to be as discreet as possible, so he arranged to meet them in London. He was flying there in a week, shipping a couple dozen automobiles. Kyodo News promised to send two reporters there, and to keep his name out of the story.

Terauchi hoped that, by the end of year, he be at peace again.

Was December the dumbest time to climb Mount McKinley alone? Yeah, and John Scherer knew it. John had been climbing Mount McKinley for the last twenty years, each year adding new difficulties to challenge himself. This year, he waited for the weather to be at it s absolute worst, the wind blowing at near-record speeds, the snow coming down hard, like little glass shards. It made John feel alive.

He estimated he was about an hour from the highest peak. Once there, he would take his annual piss-from-the-top and start making his way back down. As John advanced around a fairly large rock, he did a double-take. He was almost certain there was someone standing out there in the snow. He blinked, but the figure was gone. Odd, he thought to himself, and continued onwards.

Five minutes later, he made another turn around a rock wall, and nearly ran right into the thing. It stood still, right in front of him. At first, John thought it was another hiker with some odd-looking gear. Over his head it wore what looked like a silver ski-mask, with black eyes and mouth. It had a weird helmet with some kind of light on the top of it. Its entire body was metallic silver, only its fleshy pink hands were exposed. It had something like a radiator strapped to it s chest, and in it s hands was what looked like a flashbulb with handles on both sides.

John only had a second to take it in before it fired the device it was holding. John felt a sudden surge of heat that scorched his internal organs, burned his bones black. He fell back, dead. The Cyberman walked passed the body, checking to see if anyone else was with him. See no one, it turned and walked back the way it came. The snow storm buried John s body in a matter of minutes. 


	3. December 31st, 1986

December 31st, 1986

Kenju Terauchi slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt, his fingers noticeably less shaky than they had been over the last month. In fact, Terauchi was feeling pretty good. His flight to London had gone smoothly, the winter snow had let up long enough for a safe landing at Heathrow Airport, and he enjoyed some proper alone time, walking around, sight-seeing. But most importantly, he had finally given his interview with the two reporters from Kyodo News.

Being in the airline business, Terauchi had heard a lot of stories of UFOs and other alien interaction with planes. A light aircraft in Australia calling in a UFO and suddenly vanishing. A passenger plane making an emergency landing in Spain after being chased by mysterious red lights. A Concorde vanishing into nothingness. Wild rumors of Iranian fighter pilots getting in dogfights with flying saucers. There was an even wilder rumor of an alien-run travel agency stationed at the now-defunct Gatwick Airport in London.

Before his own incident, Terauchi only took one of these stories to heart. In 1948, Captain Thomas F. Mantell of the Kentucky Air National Guard was killed when he attempted to pursue a supposed UFO. The UFO turned out just to be a weather balloon (it was from this story that the clich came from). The aircraft was open-air, and Captain Mantell had gone too high, passing out from the lack of oxygen. Terauchi had taken two things away from that story: Everything had a rational explanation, and diving blindly into the unknown would surely get one killed.

Now, Terauchi wasn t so sure. He had seen something otherworldly. Something that was changing his perception of existence, and no one seemed willing to listen. He hadn t seen or spoken to Tamefuji and Yoshio since the incident, his doctor thought he was crazy, and his wife didn t even care. Terauchi tried to trick himself that giving the story to the reporters was for the good of mankind, that the world needed to know, but in truth, Terauchi just wanted a proper confidant, someone to listen without judgment, without thinking he was insane.

Of course, Terauchi insisted he be credited as anonymous. He knew full well that giving this kind of information to the public put his job at risk. Not only could this incident reflect badly on the airline, there was word that the American government were now elbow-deep into this. The reporters insured that Terauchi s name would be kept out of the papers. They even said that they wouldn t contact JAL to confirm the story, as unprofessional as that was.

The interview went smoothly. The reporters listened with genuine interest as Terauchi described everything to the finest detail. The first two craft that shook his airplane to hell and darted off. The third walnut-shaped ship, larger than a sports stadium. The landing and intense interrogations afterwards. Neither of the reporters smiled or laughed or made any sign of disbelief. When Terauchi was finished, the reporters thanked him and left, leaving Terauchi feeling light and at ease. That was exactly what he was looking for.

The new year was approaching, and as Terauchi slipped into his hotel bed, he knew he was awaken in 1987, renewed and fresh. It was as he rested his head on his pillow that the phone rang. In his profession, it wasn t uncommon to get late night calls from the airlines, but what could they want now?

Hello?

Hello, Captain Terauchi? This is the Japan Air Lines administrative officer.

Yes?

We ve just received word that you contacted two reporters with Kyodo News concerning a confidential incident in November. You were not authorized to give out that information. Terauchi s throat went dry. They told JAL? They said they wouldn t! The officer continued.

We are arranging for a passenger plane to bring you back to Tokyo tomorrow, where we will discuss your employment with this airline. That is all. The officer hung up with a click. A click that ended Terauchi s career.

Natoshio Nakano watched keenly as the Doctor dealt the kabufuda cards. He would have dealt them himself, but the pain in the joints of his fingers made doing so difficult. He watched the Doctor s hands mostly out of habit from playing Oicho-Kabu with criminals for most of his life. The Doctor had never been caught cheating, Natoshio doubted the Doctor was even the type.

As was tradition, the two of them had taken off their shirts to show their loyalties. Natoshio was covered in red and black tattoos, two large intertwining dragons raising from his abdomen to his chest, a tiger on his back, posed so that when seen from behind, it looked at though it was about to pounce on whoever Natoshio was facing, in this case the Doctor. The only bare spot on his torso was right over his heart, where the Sign of the Kawashi would be put should Tomori Kawashi deem Natoshio.

Oh, I m sure it ll be any day now, said the Doctor cheerfully, putting four cards face up on the table. Unlike the man across from him, the Doctor was as white as a sheet, his skin untouched. You re one of the hardest working people in the entire clan.

And what of you, Doctor? Do you wish to get the Sign someday?

Oh, well, I haven t really thought about it. Haven t even gotten my next tattoo.

Next tattoo?

Erm, yes, I had one in a past life. It was kind of this cobra thing. A mark of exile, but it looked kind of cool, actually. I might have to get it again. The Doctor put a five hundred yen bet onto one of the cards and pulled a card from the bottom of the deck, placing it face down in front of him. Natoshio put the same bet on another.

If Tomori allows it, you d be the first white man initiated into ANY clan. Even if you don t go far, it ll still be a great accomplishment.

It d be a great honor, but I m just happy to serve at any capacity. The Doctor dealt another set of four, this time face down.

Speaking of serving, you have an assignment tonight. We need you and Tsuji to scare a few people. Natoshio motioned for the Doctor to draw two more cards, which the Doctor obliged, drawing another card for himself as well.

Who are they?

Just a few reporters. They re getting too close to some of our more delicate operations.

Well, I do have a good Frankenstein face, so scaring shouldn t be a problem. Right, let s see if we have a winner.

All the face down cards were turned over. Natoshio had a nine and an eight. That alone was almost certainly a win, but the Doctor have managed to draw the worst hand the game had to offer, an eight, nine and three. Or, as the numbers were known in Japanese: ya, ku, za.

As one of the aides turned back on the lights, UNIT chief Simonelli silently laughed at the state of the FAA s presentation room. It looked like a cheap version the war room from Dr. Strangelove, with a circular table and maps on all the walls. The Federal Aviation Administration wanted to feel more important than it was, Simonelli guessed. They even had a bit of a dark and serious flourish to what was perhaps one of the most boring things he had ever seen. An audio recording of a conversation between an air traffic control agent and a Japanese pilot. A video of a radar screen going blip. Some of the things you could casually pick up and read at UNIT s US headquarters would give you nightmares. This nearly put Simonelli to sleep.

Most of the bigwigs were there. The FBI and CIA had sent their own representatives, and Simonelli could feel their resentment against him radiating through the air. He knew they thought very negatively of UNIT, partly because it operated under the United Nations and not the United States, which made Simonelli the odd duck in this room, but mostly because they felt UNIT had too much power for monster hunters as Simonelli had once heard. In Britain, UNIT could order an aerial strike to blow up a bus in the middle of a field in a matter of minutes. It was a bit harder to get emergency power here in the States, not that UNIT had needed it. All the fun stuff seemed to happen in the UK.

The Mondas Incident, that was fun for everyone, and Simonelli felt a bit smug knowing that these two US agents didn t know a thing about it. Also present was Dr. Pebley, from President Reagan s Scientific Study Team. Pebley seemed much more interested in UNIT s involvement than anyone else, and even asked Simonelli if he could help him identify some things they had found in a New York junkheap, showing him a picture that Simonelli immediately recognized as a broken piece of a Dalek. Simonelli told Pebley he had no idea what it was.

So, you see men, started vice admiral Donald D. Engen, who was leading the presentation, what we have here is the first time an unidentified flying object has been picked up on radar.

Simonelli tried to hide his grin. That was so far from the truth, radar had been picking up alien spacecraft since it s invention, this was simply the first one UNIT didn t get it s hands on first. Still, Simonelli wondered how long UNIT could keep this up. They were knee-deep in aliens in Britain (Simonelli had even heard rumors that the British division had an alien on the payroll for most the 1970s), and now things like this were slipping though the cracks. Not that it would get far. The FBI and CIA simply wanted to know if this was the work of the Soviets. Dr. Pebley would scratch his head for a day or two, give up, and go back to finding a cure for AIDS.

Granted, Simonelli wasn t sure what to do with this information. Cross reference with their databanks, see if it matched anything UNIT had come across before, and then Well, if nothing serious came up, that was about as far as Simonelli was allowed to go. These aliens might not have been in Alaska anymore. Hell, they might not have been on Earth anymore, and Simonelli was not allowed the budget to go on a wild goose chase.

Gentlemen, Engen concluded rather dramatically, This meeting never took place.

Simonelli smiled. Another day at the office.

Between the snow and all the New Years celebrations, traffic in Tokyo was at it s most hectic, so Tsuji kept to the backstreets. This didn t please him, he wanted to get there as quickly as possible, finish the job, and drink the rest of the year away. The Doctor wouldn t shut up.

Just heard that Hamao Umezawa died. Pity, the man was a genius with microbials and enzymes. I was hoping to have tea with him while I was here. Maybe I still can, I don t know. I m always trying to see the big picture, and I don t spend enough time thinking about the tiny-whiney things like Umezawa does. Did, I mean. Past tense. I mean, he didn t work with germs, he worked with the germs of germs, the fleas of germs, the

YOU! SHUT UP! Tsuji suddenly snapped, beating the steering wheel with his left hand, which drew the Doctor s eyes to the stump of Tsuji s pinky finger.

Right Sorry. The Doctor slumped in his chair.

We re almost there. Hand me my gun.

Do we really need guns just to scare these two? You re kind of a monster already. The Doctor meant that as a compliment, to try and ease some of the tension in the air. It didn t work. Tsuji shot him a burning glance. With a sigh, the Doctor opened the glove compartment and pulled out two silenced pistols, passing one to Tsuji.

Their car began up a hill. On the top was the house of Ichirou Nakamura

Ichirou Nakamura was really tired from his long flight from London to Tokyo, but he had promised Yau that he d be there when the clock stuck midnight. She had gotten a bit upset when he told her the interview date had been moved to New Years Eve, they had plans to make it a special night just for them. He fought sleep as he and Yau lay there in his bed, watching the celebrations on the TV. Somewhere in the living room, Ichirou s partner Riku was passed out.

So, do you believe him, Yau asked?

Hmmm what? Ichirou muttered, half-conscious.

Do you believe the captain? About the UFOs?

Oh, um he seemed sure of himself. That s all I really know.

Oh. Yau fell silent, cuddling up against her fianc s chest. Suddenly, there was a loud slam from the living room. Ichirou bolted up right, nearly knocking Yau off the bed.

NO! screamed someone from the living room. We were supposed to scare them!

Change of plans, came a second voice. I ll take care of the other one, you collect the body.

You can t do this! Tomori will

You leave that to me. Now, clean this mess up.

At this point, Ichirou had literally shoved Yau into his walk-in closet, closing the door despite her protests.

Stay here and be quiet, Ichirou hissed. Yau started to say something, but Ichirou was gone. Yau slipped to the back of the closet, her hand over her mouth, trying to fight back the urge to scream. Several minutes passed, and Yau hadn t heard another sound. She considered peering outside when the closet door suddenly slammed open. Standing there, smiling, was the bulky form of Tsuji.

Well, look at this. Yau screamed as Tsuji grabbed her by the hair and began to violently drag her out of the room. He led her into the living room, and what she saw took all the air out of her. On a plastic sheet in the middle of the floor lay the bodies of Ichirou and Riku, their chests covered in blood. Standing over them was a slender white man.

No! No! This has gone too far, said the Doctor. You re not going to kill her.

Why, are you going stop me? Tsuji replied, lifting his gun at the Doctor. The Doctor backed off a step. Tsuji smirked. It was bewildering that the clan let in such a coward. Tsuji painfully tossed Yau to the side. She fell into a crying heap in the corner.

But no, I m not going to kill her. You are, Doctor.

What?

She s a witness, she can t be allowed to live. Now, you kill her or I do. Either way, she s dead, but if you don t, the clan will know, they will know that you were willing to endanger them over one girl. How do you think they ll react, Doctor? Do you think they ll pat you on the back and forgive you? No, best case scenario, they kill you and dump your body into a river. Worst case scenario, they do this. Tsuji pointed to his stumped pinky finger.

There there has to be another way.

Make a choice, Doctor. I kill her, or kill her.

The Doctor looked at the crying girl in the corner, then at his shoes. Finally, with much hesitation, he lifted his gun at Yau.

I m so sorry.

The Doctor ushered in the New Year with a gunshot. 


	4. January 1st, 1987

January 1st, 1987

Former Captain Kenju Terauchi may not have partaken in last night s festivities, but he might as well have woken up with a hangover like anyone else. Sleep after the phone call was fitful, every time Terauchi managed to settle down, he d be assaulted by horrible, incoherent nightmares, a montage of monstrous horrors reflected in funhouse mirrors. Some of the horrors were close to home, the blast of the atomic bomb given the face of a demon, and some were more abstract. The one constant image was that of a large, hooved ape. Sometimes it stood there alone, watching him, and sometimes, there were three, all screaming.

It was still dark when Terauchi gave up the fight for sleep. Slipping on a coat, he stepped outside into the brisk London air. There was a light peppering of snow on the ground, matched by the light peppering of confetti and streamers from the night s celebrations. There was at least one passed-out drunkard for every block Terauchi passed, and somewhere, on the roof of a flat that Terauchi couldn t pinpoint, someone was playing Auld Lang Syne on cello.

It helped. The cold air and the general spirit of well-being would induce moments of near-meditation in Terauchi, but they wouldn t last. Mostly, he just ran the same questions in his mind over and over again. Why had the reporters broken their promise? What did they have to gain in naming him? Terauchi s initial theory was that the airline was unsure if it was Terauchi, Takanori Tamefuji or Yoshio Tsukuba who was interviewed, and proceeded to fire all three of them to be safe. Yet, wouldn t firing all three of them attract more attention to the story? It made no sense.

The sun eventually rose, and without thinking about it, Terauchi found himself in a bustling coffee shop, having managed to order a cup of tea despite his broken English. The place was bustling with hung over business men, trying to rise from the dead after a night of heavy drinking. Sitting on his right were two men in their thirties, one wearing a business suit, the other wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt.

Yeah, Pete, but let s face it. You got a kid on the way, Jackie is being Jackie, you can t afford to keep up these schemes of yours, the main in the suit said. Vitex was a bust, the solar panel thing isn t going anywhere, and now you want to write a book? You haven t written anything in your life.

It s non-fiction, replied Pete, the man in the t-shirt, I just have to write the facts.

Facts? It s called Weird London. It s about store mannequins coming to life and dinosaurs walking about it, it s complete fiction.

George, we were both there when they evacuated London when we were in high school

The water supply was contaminated!

That s the official report. They also said that the whole mannequin thing was a bunch of pranksters, but I have two eyewitness accounts that completely contradict that.

You re talking government cover ups. You can t even fill out a tax form without screwing it up, what do you know about government cover ups.

There s a name that keeps popping up. UNIT. I think they re involved in some serious alien activity.

I heard of them. Didn t they do security at all those peace conferences they were having in the 70s? Like that one where the Chinese delegate got assassinated? You re connecting a piss-poor security team with alien conspiracy?

UNIT seems to have it s fingers in a lot of things. Plastic manufacturing, mining, aircrafts, politics, all kinds of things, but only when something a bit off kilter is going on.

Ok, fine, fine, I don t want to argue urban legends. My point was that you never wrote anything before, and you think you can get a book off the ground just like that?

It ll go over big with tourists!

Look, good luck with that, I m got to go or I ll miss my bus. Bye, Pete.

The man in the business suit left. Pete took a few minutes to finish his coffee and walked out himself. Terauchi was quick to follow him.

Ah, hello? Terauchi said, tapping Pete on the shoulder. Pete turned around.

Yes?

Ah, excuse me, I do not know good English.

You need help finding your way around?

I need, what you say, UNIT?

Come again?

People who take care of aliens? I need UNIT.

It was eight in the morning, and Natoshio Nakano was just about to pour some tea when he heard the car tear into the driveway. Frowning, he pulled out another cup from the cupboard and began to fill it, though with some difficulty, the pain in his fingers not allowing him to keep the pot still as he poured. The front door slammed open, and the Doctor stormed in.

Did you know! the Doctor demanded. Did you!

Doctor, please, sit down, have a cup of tea Nakano urged, sliding one of the cups towards the furious young man. The Doctor snatched the cup and slammed it down on the counter hard, shattering it and spreading steaming hot tea across his hand. The Doctor didn t seem to register it.

Did Tsuji go on his own, or were his orders to kill those innocent people all along?

I do not know. I truly do not. Doctor, you must calm down. Nakano shuffled over to the other side of the kitchen and grabbed a towel.

I killed someone, Nakano! I don t kill people, it s not what I do! An innocent, crying girl, who just saw someone she loved gunned down. I came to you as an advisor, but if you turn me into a hitman, I swear The Doctor didn t finish his thought. Nakano begin to wrap the Doctor s burnt hand in the towel as delicately as he could.

I don t know if Tsuji was following orders or not. They were not my orders, I can say that much. The Doctor didn t respond, instead pressing himself against one of the walls of the kitchen and sliding down into a sitting position, nursing his hand. Nakano slouched against the counter and continued.

Doctor, you are a foreigner, and in my experience, foreigners have a hard time grasping the yakuza life. I have heard Kawashi family compared to American gangsters, to the Italian mob, but it s not like that all. We are a truly a family, sons and fathers, brothers and sisters. Sometimes a son rebels against the order of the father, or sometimes the father has to make a hard choice for the greater good. Perhaps Tsuji did these actions on his own, perhaps Tomori gave an overriding order, but we must handle this with the delegacy of a family matter. You can not seek justice for this crime, Doctor. At that, the Doctor laughed.

You forget, I m not part of the family. I m an outside adviser, not a true Kawashi.

But you wish to be.

I learned a long time ago that what I wish to be and what is are two entirely different things.

Do you still want to? Do you want to by Kawashi? The first white yakuza? The Doctor sat silent for a moment, then nodded. Nakano smiled. Then I have good news.

What?

What you did was horrible for you, but it was necessary. Many would not go to the lengths you went last night. I have spent many hours talking with Tomori, and after these events, we have decided to let you into the Kawashi family.

The Doctor frowned. Because I killed an innocent girl?

Because you did what needed to be done.

The Doctor nodded and got back to his feet. I accept, but don t think this means I m letting Tsuji off the hook. I will see this matter taken care of.

We are having a mass ceremony tonight to welcome the new year. We will have your initiation then. I would be honored to have you a kobun.

The Doctor patted Nakano on the shoulder and smiled. I would be honored to have you as a oyabun.

We will also be celebrating my promotion to lieutenant.

Lieutenant? the Doctor burst out with a laugh. You re finally going to get the Sign of the Kawashi, are you? Well, congratulations! He hugged the older Japanese man, who cried from surprised and than laughed.

In Nakano s bedroom, Tsuji Toshiro cringed. What was supposed to scare the Doctor away from the Kawashi clan had only brought him closer.

For over a week, search parties had been combing Mount McKinley, and finally John Scherer s body had been found, buried frozen under half a foot of snow. Simonelli examined the autopsy report that had been faxed to UNIT s American headquarters with great interest.

One of the most damning details was Scherer s blackened bones that crumbled to ash when exposed to air. Sure sign of a low-end energy weapon. Simonelli had read many reports of British UNIT soldiers falling victims of these kind of weapons, they were pretty standard as far as alien threats went. Daleks, Cybermen and Axons all had variants of it. At least this wrote out the Autons, Simonelli thought to himself, as they primarily used projectiles.

On a hunch, Simonelli dug up the reports on the Mondas incident and those killed at Snowcap, and the details of their deaths matched that of John Scherer s. Simonelli typed up a data request on the Cybermen weapons that had been recovered from Snowcap and faxed it to British HQ. Perhaps there was a way to confirm that the same type of weapon was used on Scherer. Simonelli didn t know, this wasn t his field. All he knew was that some kind of alien force was running around on Mount McKinley, and he would have to be the one to deal with it. Finally, something happening in America!

Isobel Watkins-Turner prodded the photo paper with some tongs and cringed as the image of an out-of-focus wedding couple was revealed. She couldn t very well present that, but the sad thing was, it was probably one of the better pictures she had taken. She had used the wrong lens through the entire wedding, something an amateur would have picked up, but even after nearly twenty years of photography experience, Isobel was still making these rookie mistakes.

She knew she needed to find another profession, but had no real interest in anything that didn t involve cameras. She had been a model in the 60s, but now 45, the crows feet, grey hairs and weight gain had written a return right out. She thought she had fame in the bag through the 70s, but that never happened, and so she took poor amateur wedding photos while paying for a low-scale flat from the alimony drawn from her ex-husband s government pension.

After hanging the photos to dry, Isobel carefully left her makeshift darkroom, turned on the television and sat down for a smoke. Before she got a lungful in, there was a timid knock at the door. Isobel put her cigarette out, got up and opened the door to find a concerned-looking Japanese man, who gave a little bow.

Beg pardon, I do not speak good English, the man said. He looked down at the piece of paper with the woman s name and address. You Isobel Turner?

Yes, can I help you, Isobel replied.

My name, Kenju Terauchi. I need help, Pete sent me to you.

Pete? Peter Tyler?

Yes?

Is this about that Weird London rubbish? He s got copies of my photos, what else does he need?

I need help finding UNIT. They know about aliens, Terauchi said, looking down at his feet. Isobel frowned.

All right, come in, I ll get you some coffee. Isobel went into the kitchen as Terauchi entered the living room. The room was cluttered with photography equipment, lights and reflectors, plus a large bookshelf holding nothing but photo albums. On one wall were three famed blown-up photographs of a young Isobel, modeling in some very dated fashions. Isobel returned with a mug and handed it to Terauchi.

Thank you, Terauchi said, giving another small bow. Isobel smiled and walked up to her book shelf, scanning them for a moment before pulling one out.

The person you really want is my ex-husband, Jimmy Turner. It was a captain at UNIT during the Cyberman invasion of 1969. Terauchi gave her a puzzled look, which caused Isobel to laugh. Yeah, not many people can recall it. Most everyone in the world had their brains scrambled or something. Here.

Isobel opened the photo album to a specific page and handed it to Terauchi. On the left page were blurry black-and-white photos of something that looked human-shaped, but seemed misshapen and was either white or silver. On the right page was a series of photos of a dark-haired man, sitting on concrete while what appeared to be soldiers marched around him.

Cybermen, Isobel said, pointing to the left page, Nasty lot, hundreds of them walking around on Earth and nobody knew a thing.

Is that your husband? Terauchi asked, pointing to the man on the right page.

Oh, no, that was one of the men working for UNIT. They called him the Doctor, funny chap, saved me from a crazy electronics CEO once. He had these friends of his, some Scottish kid who got himself shot in the leg and a girl named Zoe. They were pretty much responsible for stopping the whole mess. I thought I was going to get famous from these photos, but this rotten government office called C19 tried to discredit them. Isobel trailed off for a moment, lost in thought, before snapping back to reality. Why do you need UNIT s help?

I saw spaceships.

A lot of people do. You read all about them in the tabloids.

I saw spaceships close.

Up close, you mean? Well, OK, you were abducted?

No, just got close?

A pilot, then?

Yes.

Well, I imagine if the airlines are aware of the incident, than UNIT is. UNIT keeps an eye on that kind of thing. Terauchi didn t respond. This was such a fly of the moment thing, he hadn t really thought what he would do if he had found this mysterious UNIT group. Isobel finally broke the akward silence.

Look, I don t know much about UNIT these days, I tried to join their photography team, but I guess I wasn t good enough. If you want, I can give you Jimmy s address and you can talk to him about all of this. He retired from UNIT many years ago, but I m sure he can point you in the right direction. Isobel grabbed a notepad and a pencil and scribbled an address on it. She passed it to Terauchi.

Um, he lives in Northampton, which is a bit of a drive from here. Do you think you can get there?

Terauchi nodded. Yes. Thank you.

Terauchi gave one more small bow and started for the door.

And listen, Isobel said as Terauchi closed the door behind him, when you see my ex-husband, be sure to tell him he s a good-for-nothing rat!

The Kawashi house of ceremonies, which sat in the southern outskirts of Tokyo, was a retrofitted Catholic church, originally constructed during the Occupation before the Kawashi family bought out the land. The Christian imagery had been removed decades ago, as were the benches, but it was otherwise as it was forty years ago.

Except for the mural on the ceiling. Some say that Tomori Kawashi s father, Kuri Kawashi, was fascinated by the Sistine Chapel and had personally painted the church s ceiling himself. Instead of a scene of heaven and angels, the Kawashi house of ceremonies had a star field, yellow and red starts fitted in black and blue nebulas in intricate patterns. On the edges of this mural was a circle of figures, most of them not human. Many were creatures from Japanese folklore and Shinto religion. Over the front door hovered the figures of Amaterasu, Tsukuyomi and Susanoo, gods of the sun, moon and sea respectively. On the other end, hovering over the altar, was the twisted beast that was to be tattooed over the heart of Natoshio Nakano this night.

Nakano realized that this was the first time the Doctor had been allowed here, so it was no surprise that most of the Doctor s attention was on the mural. People were gathering around the alter, which had converted into a proper oyabun-kobun ceremony table, ceremonial sake cup and jug placed in the center. Behind the alter were trays of fish and salt. The building was packed, and for good reason. It was very rare for foreigners to join yakuza family. There were a small handful of Korean and Chinese over the last century, but never a European, never a white man. Everyone in the Kawashi clan wanted to claim they saw it happen.

The ceremony was soon underway. The Doctor and Nakano stripped of their shirts, Nakano bathed in traditional tattoos, the Doctor as white as a sheet. That would begin to change after tonight. They sat on either end of the table. The torimochinin (which meant many things, but for this event meant master of ceremonies ) slowly grabbed the jug and carefully poured the warm sake into the cup. He then scraped off a few fish scales, grabbed a pinch of salt, and put them in the sake, slowly swirling the cup to make them blend, finally placing the cup in the center of the table. The Doctor and Nakano stayed silent, never breaking eye contact.

Finally, Nakano nodded, and the Doctor reached for the cup. He looked at it for a moment, than sipped out about a quarter of it s contents. Nakano knew from experience that the salt and scales made the sake taste horrible, but the Doctor didn t flinch. The Doctor placed the cup in the center of the table, and now Nakano reached for it, drinking the rest of it s contents.

Doctor, the torimochinin began, having drunk from the same cup as your oyabun, you now owe loyalty to the family of Kawashi and devotion to Natoshio Nakano. Even should your wife and children starve, even at the cost of your own life, your duty is now to the family and oyabun. Should they say a passing crow is white, you will agree. From now on, you have no other occupation until the day you die.

The Doctor gave a small bow, which Nakano returned, which broke them from formality. They smiled, and several members of the audience cheered. The Doctor helped Nakano to his feet while Tomori Kawashi took to the altar.

We welcome the Doctor as a member of our family, Tomori said. We believe he will be a great asset to us, and by extension, the community of Tokyo and Japan at large. As we create a new family bond, another bond will also become stronger, as we promote Natoshio Nakano to lieutenant. His contribution has been invaluable, and we welcome him to highest standing of the Kawashi. As a lieutenant, Nakano shall be given the Sign of the Kawashi.

Everyone in the room cheered. Nakano smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. Tomori lifted a hand to silence them and continued.

This ceremony is held in private, but as is custom, Nakano is allowed a witness. Have you selected someone?

I have, Nakano said. I have selected Tsuji Toshiro to be my witness.

Let him come forward.

Tsuji strode out of the murmuring crowd, his chest a bit puffed out in pride. Very few people got to witness the tattooing of the Sign of the Kawashi, most of them being high prospects for getting tattoo themselves. Not many people would put money of Tsuji receiving it, but Nakano must have had his reasons. As Tsuji walked by, the Doctor gave him a subtle glare, which Tsuji returned.

Tomori led Nakano and Tsuji into the backrooms of the church. A small man carrying a briefcase approached the Doctor.

Doctor? I believe it is time for some proper tattoos, the man said.

Right? Right! the Doctor said, snapping out of his thoughts. Tattoos, lovely! Getting a masterpiece painted under your skin. The tattoo man led the Doctor to a corner with two chairs and a stool. He placed the briefcase on the stool and popped it open, revealing several vials of ink and ten long bamboo needles. The Doctor sat himself down in one of the chairs.

Oh, if only Vincent Van Gogh had been a tattoo artist, than maybe today people would treat it with the respect it deserves. We wouldn t have people putting their two-week girlfriend s name on their chest only to them to break up three days later, no sir. The tattoo man gave the Doctor a weird look.

Bitter?

What? No, it didn t happen to me!

Fine. Where shall we start?

Here, the Doctor said, pointing to his right forearm. I m feeling a bit nostalgic. I m thinking of a cobra design to start things off.

A cobra?

Yes. A sign of exile. The Doctor smiled, the tattoo man shrugged, and they began their work. The pain from tattooing with bamboo needles was intense, but the Doctor held back from cringing or crying out. The tattoo man knew that if they were doing this in private, the Doctor would probably start crying, as most people did, but the majority of the Kawashi family was in this building, and the Doctor wanted to leave a strong impression.

Four hours later, the first of the Doctor s yakuza tattoos was complete. The cobra was black and red, poised from striking. The Doctor wiped it down with a towel and smiled.

My mother would never approve, the Doctor said.

It was another four hours, just before midnight, before the men in the back began to exit. First, a few of the other lieutenants, then Tomori and Nakano. Nakano was still shirtless and was now displaying the Sign of the Kawashi over his heart. The Doctor walked up to him and smiled.

Congratulations, oyabun, he said. Nakano responded with an energetic laugh and gave him a strong bear hug, lifting the Doctor off the ground.

Tsuji slinked out the room, a look of amazement on his face. Anyone who saw him that night could tell he was a man who had learned a frightening, amazing secret.

The only light in the room came from the muted television resting on the floor, playing footage of Ronald Reagan giving a speech while Japanese subtitles translated. Yua Kimura was finally beginning to stir. It felt as though she was waking from a long, terrible dream. It took her a few minutes to remember what had happened, and with a sudden panic, she jumped to her feet and gave a quick scream.

Her hand felt her chest where the white man had shot her, but she discovered nothing but a small bruise. The clothes she was wearing that night were gone, replaced with a simple t-shirt and sweat pants. Confused, disoriented, Yua started feeling over the walls until she found a light switch. The lights in the living room turned on, and Yua realized she was in a high-scale apartment building. There were several windows revealing the Tokyo skyline, she thought she had to be at least twenty stories up.

The walls and carpet were completely white and sterile. Aside from the TV, the room was unfurnished. Yua ran for the front door, but when she tried to grab the doorknob, her hand only found air. In place of the knob was a metal plate. Yau tried to pry her fingers into the sides of the door, but it wouldn t budge.

Her panic grew. She ran from the living room into the kitchen. It too was all white. There was no refrigerator, no appliances. She opened cupboards and drawers and found no dishes or silver wear. In her panic, it took her a moment to see the glass in the sink. There was a yellow note stuck to it.

YOU LL BE THIRSTY WHEN YOU WAKE UP

Indeed, Yua was parched. She checked to make sure the water was working, and quickly downed several glasses. This calmed her nerves a bit.

Hello? she called, but she heard no sound in reply. Carefully, she began to explore the rest of the apartment. The bathroom was white as well, and appeared unused. After opening several empty closets, she made her way to the master bedroom, where she finally found some color, though not in a way she suspected. There was no bed, no furniture, nothing except a large blue box with the words POLICE BOX written on the top. 


End file.
